


damaged goods

by m0ette



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 02:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16399361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m0ette/pseuds/m0ette
Summary: In between the gentle murmur of tides and the monotonous whisper of the reed, a hope is sparked. “Are we not coming back tonight?”Johnny turns to Ten, eyebrows raised. “Do you want to?”





	damaged goods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaorinct](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaorinct/gifts).



> To the one who encourages my every move, the one who inspires me to do better every day, the one who always holds my hand through the thick and thin, no matter what. I love you. Thank you for being born.

If you ask Ten how they got to the point of driving away from the bright noise of the sleepless Chicago when all the traffic was city-bound from all the people rushing in to get there by the time their shifts start, he won’t be able to explain. He doesn’t know either.

Still, his chest is flush against Johnny’s back, and he’d most certainly be playing with the zipper of his tacky leather jacket if he wasn’t clutching handfuls of it in fear of falling off on every turn they made.

“Hold on!” Johnny shouts, but Ten doesn’t quite hear it and rather gets the command from the satisfying roar of the engine underneath them when Johnny speeds up to outrun the car before them.

After that, the road is mostly empty, and they slow down, just cruising through the chilly morning air, the first rays of sun lighting up the skies right before their eyes. Ten spreads his arms wide, feels the wind catch in the folds of Johnny’s hoodie he’s borrowed this morning and pull him back, and closes his eyes, imagining how they must look from the outside: on a motorcycle on their way to nowhere, faces covered from the curious onlookers. Or maybe nobody’s really looking, and it’s just a hidden paranoid habit of his: never fully safe until it’s just the two of them, their secret union nothing more than just that - another secret to keep.

It’s just plains all around, the smooth line of horizon uninterrupted for miles, and it’s a welcome change from their everyday life Ten’s grown so weary of, but the drive isn’t long before they cross the Indiana border and Johnny exits the highway to stop at a gas station for some snacks and soda.

Ten stays behind and tries to get his thoughts into order - it’s easier when Johnny isn’t there to melt his mind with the overwhelming closeness Ten wasn’t used to in the two months they haven’t seen each other. When Johnny has asked him if he wanted to run away Ten didn’t expect them to do it quite literally.

Now, in the middle of a gas station that looked like every other gas station he's ever seen in a teenage romantic comedy movie before, Ten feels like a main character from one of them - when Johnny comes back with a lot more than he expected and secures all the bags on the back of their motorcycle along with his helmet, the image of Johnny's hair blown in the wind makes his breath hitch for a moment, as if he has never seen that before.

Johnny’s mounting the motorcycle already, and when Ten asks him to put the helmet back on Johnny just waves him off.

“Why should I?” The smirk is audible in his voice even if Ten can’t see it, and it’s the smirk Ten loves kissing away from Johnny’s smug face so much that tells him that Johnny does this on purpose. The bastard knows exactly which buttons to push.

“Because I asked you, didn’t I? You’re supposed to say yes.” Ten pouts, but Johnny doesn’t - can’t - see it, so the effect is lost on him. It’s also the only reason he’s able to say no to Ten.

“Nobody's gonna recognize me, this isn’t Korea.” Johnny takes Ten’s hand into his own and squeezes in an unsuccessful attempt at comforting, but his hands are cold and clammy as if he doesn’t buy the lie himself, but still needs to sell it to Ten.

Ten doesn’t buy it either. He isn’t twenty anymore - not new to the public eye, new to their private relationship, bright-eyed and excited about everything, - he knows better now. They’ve been through a lot in the short five years since then, and Johnny can’t deny he’s more recognized in the States now than he was ever back in Korea when they’d first started. Nation’s sweetheart, the gentle giant Johnny Suh returned to his homeland and took it by storm, never releasing the firm grip he had on hearts of everyone.   

“You know it’s not what I’m worried about,” Ten bites his tongue with a lie and still squeezes Johnny’s hand back. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, is all.”

Johnny turns around and looks at Ten, his face visibly softening. The sun catches in his eyes and it’s a contrasting warmth to the cold of his hands. “I’ll be careful,” he says and brings Ten’s palm up to leave a kiss to the center of it. “I’ve got a precious package to deliver, after all.”

Ten is glad Johnny can’t see him blush, even if it’s not something Johnny hasn’t seen before.

 

The monotonous industrial scenery changes to happy greenery after they turn North from the main road just as the sun creeps up to the very zenith and sticks like a pancake to the blue skillet of the noon sky. The road gets bumpy and Johnny slows down considerably, allowing Ten to finally catch his breath.

The air smells of fresh water and undeniably summer in the warm way Thai beaches always do, and Ten feels a pang of guilt for spending his rare days off on the other side of the planet instead of just going home before it disappears at the view that opens before him.

“Wow,” he breathes out, squinting: his eyes take a while to get used to the brightness of white sand and crystal clear water shining under the unforgiving sun. “I would never have thought there’s something like this so far up into the continent.”

Johnny’s lips curve in a smug grin. “You live you learn, right?”

Ten rolls his eyes but can’t help a smile that touches his own lips. “Right,” he allows easily, and Johnny laughs at the obvious reluctance in his voice, the sound of it happy and light. “So what’s the plan, captain?”

Johnny hums noncommittally, regarding the shoreline barely seen from behind the camping tents, then looks around for something, furrowing his brows. “Sorry, haven’t been here in a while. I didn’t really plan this through, did I?”

“It’s okay,” Ten brushes his shoulder lightly - barely a touch, lingering for a fleeting second - and watches Johnny relax, his hand reaching for Ten’s palm back in a similar gesture. “I was just asking.”

He follows Johnny to the parking lot where they leave the bike to the supervision of a surveillance camera and an equally as, if not more so, trustworthy guard dog, barking at them bloody murder and shaking it’s long salt-and-pepper beard. Johnny returns just in time to rescue Ten from its righteous anger and leads the way to the beach, devoid of people in this heat.

“Dad used to take me here fishing when I was a kid,” he says, watching over the lake spread out for miles and miles before them till the horizon and beyond, “even though the only fish I ever managed to catch was in Animal Crossing.”

Ten can easily picture a grade schooler Johnny in his favorite denim overalls taking his new Nintendo DS to a family trip, and it’s such a Johnny thing to do Ten can’t help but laugh. Johnny turns around and looks at him, his expression unreadable for a fleeting moment, but then he smiles too, and says, “I know, right?”

Right. Typical Johnny.

“It’s just so different here,” he says, taking his camera out. “There’s something about this place that feels like, I don’t know, like I can take this day off and the world won’t end.”

It strikes a chord somewhere deep within Ten, but he doesn’t allow this feeling to grow, suppressing it until he can look back up at Johnny and smile.

The water is a stark cold against his heated skin when Ten steps into the lake, and the contrasting goosebumps rush up his legs, shaking him up with a violent bout of shivers. Ten yelps and jumps back from the new wave surging forward, but Johnny, as if anticipating his fall, catches Ten’s hand, straightens him up and resumes his fiddling with the camera, as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. Maybe nothing did.

Ten stays in the clear freezing water, numb from his knees down, and just looks at Johnny - his concentrated frown, the sharp angle of his downturned eyes, his left hand still holding Ten’s arm firmly. The quiet, unassuming confidence suits Johnny. The hidden power in his trained body, the calm self-assurance - all of it fits him as well.

 _He’s beautiful,_ Ten thinks. He can’t look away even when Johnny catches him staring and lifts an eyebrow in a silent question.

“You’re beautiful,” Ten tells him then, not finding any reason to lie, and it takes Johnny aback for a second before he raises the camera up to his eyes and snaps a picture of Ten just as he is in that moment: open, honest and so close.

“Thank you,” he smiles, soft and warm. His smile, Ten thinks, is beautiful, too. He averts his gaze, afraid of what he wants to do - afraid of what he would’ve inevitably done if he didn’t have five years of self-restraint practice behind his back, - but Johnny presses the shutter again and takes another photo of him, and then one more, and Ten feels the blush heating up his cheeks under Johnny’s intense gaze. He brings his hands up to cover his face, but Johnny’s still holding onto him so Ten can’t escape the scrutiny.

He would’ve kissed Johnny if he could, but he doesn’t: even if the beach is empty, and even if the only camera on them is Johnny’s, they don’t have the luxury of this freedom, and no matter how hard Ten tries to chase this thought away, it’s everpresent in his mind - sometimes manageable, other times haunting.

“Let’s go,” Ten musters a smile of his own and, even if Johnny notices it, he doesn’t say anything.

He releases Ten’s hand and steps out of the water, and Ten follows, trying to will quiet his erratically beating heart. The numbness yields under the pressure of the hot sand under his feet, but he still wraps up into his oversized hoodie as if they weren’t on a beach in the middle of June and Johnny’s lingering touch was the only thing that could keep him warm.

They walk along the shore for a while. Any tension Ten felt dissipates as soon as Johnny fills the space between them with a mindless chatter, and when they fall quiet again the silence is a familiar, comfortable presence by their side. Johnny stops in the shadows of the rickety wooden stairs way off from the main beach and they sit down in the sand - back to back, head to head.

Ten looks at the lake again - it’s not blinding anymore, and the calm blue of it undoes the last knot of anxiousness in him. He lets his head fall to Johnny’s shoulder and takes in the calm wash of darkening skies before his eyes fall shut.

“We used to camp out around here,” Johnny says, and Ten feels his light shrug against his shoulders. “I haven’t brought a tent though, so we’ll have to figure something out.”

In between the gentle murmur of tides and the monotonous whisper of the reed, a hope is sparked. “Are we not coming back tonight?”

Johnny turns to him, eyebrows raised. “Do you want to?”

Ten hums.

 

The day seeps away like sand from his hands. Ten brushes his palms over his shorts and gets up, stretching his sore back - Johnny runs a firm hand down his spine like he knows Ten likes it, and Ten leans into the touch reflexively, unwilling to break the contact just yet.

“Tired?” Johnny laughs and lets his hand linger for a bit longer before letting go. He hauls his backpack on and passes both of their helmets for Ten to carry.

Ten takes the helmets, looking almost resentfully at the one Johnny’s refused to put on earlier. “Not really,” he shrugs, but then concedes, “if only a little? It’s not like we’ve done much today.”

Johnny nods. “Gotcha. I say we grab a dinner somewhere first and then decide from there, what do you think?”

“Sounds good to me.”

They take the stairs away from the sandy beach, and Johnny stops to take more pictures of the lake from above, of the bustling greenery behind them, of Ten again, before Ten wrestles the camera away from him - Johnny gives it up easily and lets Ten take some photos of himself, humoring him with different poses. Ten always liked photography, though never to the degree Johnny did, and he can only hope the photos turned out well so Johnny won’t judge him too much. Knowing him, he probably wouldn’t.

The dog in the parking lot seems to be much happier seeing them this time around, though Ten suspects it has little to do with them both and everything to do with the purple-haired girl approaching them from the main gate. She distracts it for long enough for them to mount the bike and take off, leaving the cold lake with Johnny’s childhood memories of it behind.

Johnny makes a stop at a roadside diner not even half an hour away. It’s an old-looking building that looks like it hasn’t been renovated since it was built, probably in the sixties. Still, the brightly lit sign is inviting and they are tired enough for Johnny to park just outside of the entrance and follow Ten in.

The inside of the diner looks like a picture right out of a period piece, though Ten isn’t as much invested in the movies of that time as he loves Christina Aguilera’s _Candyman_ music video. It’s much less lively here though, with it probably being off-season or just too out of everyone’s way, so they occupy the empty cozy booth in the very corner.

Ten looks at his surroundings while Johnny inspects the menu. The overhead lights are dim - which probably had more to do with energy saving than being an actual designer choice - but the small table lamps are a pleasant alternative. Ten looks back at Johnny, the warm light washing over his downturned face, leaving soft shadows from his eyelashes on his high cheeks, but then Johnny, as if having felt his studying gaze, looks back at him and dares to wink before calling for the waitress to come over.

He orders for the both of them, and it’s only when the food finally arrives that Ten feels the overpowering hunger he’s been silencing with water and sour gummy worms during the day. It’s not particularly good: the coffee is sour for some reason and the waffles are too greasy for Ten’s liking, but Johnny says it’s exactly how it’s supposed to be so he doesn’t complain too much - at least the waffles don’t have a scoop of butter masked as ice-cream that haunted Ten’s dreams ever since he tried it in Los-Angeles all those years ago.

The waitress brings the check to their table and comes to greet the newcomers - a big family with tired-looking parents and a bunch of rowdy kids, and leads them to the opposite side of the diner, leaving them completely alone. There’s no one near them anymore, an elderly couple and a tough-looking biker guy having probably left when Ten was too busy with his meal to notice, so he dares to face his fear and stretches across the table to brush the knuckles of Johnny’s hand lightly, getting his attention.

Johnny looks at him curiously, raising a questioning eyebrow, but turns his palm around and slides his fingers into the sleeve of Ten’s - Johnny’s - hoodie. It’s a harmless, simple gesture, but it gets Ten’s blood boiling in a matter of a single touch. _Don’t,_ he wants to say, but he initiated the contact himself and he doesn’t want to worry Johnny any more than he already did today. So he grips Johnny’s palm and squeezes it with conviction, unwilling to go back.

It’s reminiscent of the winter of their debut year - Ten’s debut year, when they - still best friends, teammates and nothing more - would hold hands every chance they got, their feelings omnipresent and painfully obvious but still lacking a proper definition besides the hushed _I don’t want to do this without you_ shared in the quiet of their dorm room.

Separation after separation - postponed debut, injury, always different units - it became a part of their everyday reality they had to protect. The fear of unknown grew and morphed before their eyes until they feared to know too much. _If anybody finds out,_ their manager had said then, her gaze politely turned away from the sleepy Johnny in Ten’s bed, _there will be consequences._

It’s been five years now, and the fear Ten thought he’d defied with a simple touch of their hands in the intimate shadows of this dingy diner set all of the alarms in him at the feeling of Johnny’s lips over his ear, whispering a comforting:

“Nobody’s looking.”

Ten jerks back, but Johnny holds onto his hand, as if anticipating this reaction, and brings the other hand to fix Ten’s hair - just an excuse to touch him. He looks so calm, so collected, as if it was nothing, and Ten doesn’t know if he wants to kiss Johnny or if he wants to punch him in the face.

In the end, he does neither of those things, which is probably written down as a win in Johnny’s books. They leave the diner the way they came - unnoticed by anyone, and the disinterested look on the face of the waitress lifts some of the weight off of Ten’s shoulders.

 

The sun is already dying, it’s last rays accepting their fate. The wind picks up, bringing dark clouds from the North, but it doesn’t rain until they finally reach the nearest motel. It’s opposite from where they came from in the morning, probably well into the State of Michigan, but Ten still isn’t that well-versed in the American geography to say for sure.

The room they get is small, but it has a bed and a fridge in a tiny kitchenette, which is more than they really need. Johnny goes straight for the window to draw the curtains, but Ten remains standing at the door, just looking at his boyfriend from the side.

Johnny is his boyfriend, and Ten is crazy about it. He’s crazy about Johnny, and it makes their lives significantly harder than they could’ve been. It’s strange, being alone together like this now after such a long separation. Sneaking into Johnny’s hotel suit the company has rented for them on tour was one thing, but driving hundreds of miles on the off chance they could manage a couple of hours away from the public eye was completely another, and Ten suddenly feels very out of place in this box room, with its bed and its fridge and its off-white curtains, but Johnny’s still here - the only constant in Ten’s chaotic life, so Ten latches himself onto him to escape this feeling.

They haven’t seen each other in almost two months - not the longest time they’d ever spent apart, but separation, however brief it may be, never gets easier. Being so close and not being able to touch is that much harder now that their rapidly growing popularity has stripped them of this freedom, so Ten finally presses against Johnny’s chest and kisses him in earnest like he’s been meaning to, resting his hand where the skin of Johnny’s neck meets the hairline. He lets his lips drag slowly against Johnny’s, enjoying the softness and warmth of his mouth.

Somewhere deep in his chest, a quiet pulsation picks up its pace. The monotonous sough of the blood running through his veins, the constant repetition of the back and forth loud in his ears, magnified tenfold by the silence of the tiny room, only gets louder when Johnny circles his hands around Ten and pulls him closer, meeting his lips with a practiced certainty.

He’s so close Ten wonders if Johnny listens carefully enough to hear it, too - this erratic, off-kilter heartbeat of his, - but the thought fades to the back of his mind for Ten is but a man, and he isn’t immune to being kissed like that - slow and chaste, overwhelming. He’s waited for so long, and now it’s happening before his eyes - a dream, no less - a sweet and viscid dream.

Johnny brings his palms to cup Ten’s face and Ten leans into the warmth of the touch, and when he opens his eyes, Johnny’s already looking at him. It’s inconvenient, Ten thinks, the way you are no longer a master of yourself once you let someone into your life and under your skin, and another surge of affection overcomes him, rendering him completely unable to resist the urge to kiss him again, again, and again.

Leading Johnny in a kiss, Ten has learned, only lasts so long, and when Johnny catches his lower lip between his teeth, tugging at it with a gentle purpose, Ten surrenders with ease and lets Johnny pick him up, crossing his legs behind his back. Johnny settles his hands at Ten’s thighs, urging him forward, and presses Ten’s back against the smooth painted wall, bringing them even closer.

So fucking hot, Ten’s brain melts.

It’s easier for Johnny to kiss his neck now, and Ten feels his smile against his heated skin sending shivers down his spine. He wants to relax, to become pliant so that Johnny can kiss him until he’s completely out of it, but the reality of their arrangement comes crashing down on him anew when Johnny sinks his teeth into the juncture of his neck.

Ten opens his mouth, then hesitates. He wants to say something, but every coherent thought escapes him before he can get it out, leaving only nervous energy in its wake. He leans down, nudging Johnny up for another kiss, long and slow, coming undone at the tender response.

“Hey,” Johnny whispers against Ten’s lips when they part, “what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, and just lowers Ten onto the counter of the small kitchenette, holding his hands out for Ten to take and establish the connection at his own pace. Ten takes his hands readily and finally meets his gaze again, narrowing his eyes a little.

“I didn’t mean not to say anything,” he sighs, “it’s just a lot. You’re doing so much, I don’t wanna ruin this night.”

Johnny reacts exactly as Ten expects him to: he mirrors Ten’s sigh, looking down on their joined hands, and entwines their fingers in an attempt at comfort - he knows Ten likes it. He knows everything about Ten, because Johnny, first and foremost, is his best friend: that’s never changed through all the years they’ve spent together or apart, in one bed or on the opposite sides of the world, and it’s the one thing Ten knows won’t change, ever; he trusts it not to change.

Yet they were still in a relationship, a long-lasting one at that, and when Johnny hugs Ten by the neck and pulls him in, Ten follows - he would follow Johnny to the edge of the world if he’s being honest. He already kinda did.

“You can’t be careless here anymore, Johnny,” he says, empty gaze looking forward. “You’re a star, remember?”

Ten has always thought that when two adults like each other and know about it, it’s enough to solve their problems, but maybe he and Johnny aren’t adult enough just yet. Maybe the industry just taught him well, even if it meant he wouldn’t be able to function like a normal human being, possibly ever.

“If we were in a movie, people would find out,” Ten lets out, the headlights of a car parking outside filtering through the blinds and onto his face. If they were in a movie, someone would bust the door open and come in, screaming, cameras aimed at them hungry for a flashy title and a couple of ruined lives - that’s how he imagines it.

“You need to stop watching those dramas you like so much,” Johnny murmurs, snuggling to Ten closer. His hot breath burns Ten’s shoulder through the thick fabric of his hoodie, and maybe it’s the deep and steady breath that calms him down, or maybe it’s the tone of Johnny’s voice - so sure, so casual in its confidence - that grounds Ten to the here and now, to the reality and not the terrifying fantasy he’d imagined. “I would never let anyone hurt you.”

Ten feels the tears form in the corners of his eyes, so he presses into Johnny’s shoulder, secretly rubbing them off on his shirt. He’s not ashamed of crying, but he doesn’t want him to see it, because he knows Johnny will take it to heart. “Is that a promise?”

“It is.”

Johnny gives him time, waiting for his breathing to even out before he lets go. He doesn’t say anything, just takes a pack of tissues out of the bag he’s bought at the gas station in the morning and passes it to Ten, allowing him to calm down at his own pace, and Ten is grateful for that. He’s grateful for the sour gummy worms Johnny gives him, too, wondering briefly if the jelly candy is everything Johnny’s bought for them.

He sits on an uncomfortable looking stool near Ten and steals some of the gummies for himself, making a face at the sourness. It’s probably hard talking after someone had just stopped crying, but Johnny ignores the heavy air around them and breaks the silence with ease like only he could.

“You know,” he says, and Ten turns to face him, their knees touching lightly. “My parents married when they were twenty-six. Dunno if I’ve ever told you that, but I’ve always thought I’d be married by the time I hit twenty-six, too.”

Ten finds himself at a loss for words at the sudden change of topic, but Johnny continues, not waiting for him to reply. “Now that I’m here, I don’t think it will ever happen.”

The focus shifts, and Ten feels his stomach drop at the quiet resignation in Johnny’s voice. The need to help moves him closer, just in case the proximity can bring Johnny any solace.

“Why?” He asks and immediately feels the absurdity of the situation. It’s obvious why. He’s cried about it not even ten minutes ago.

Still, he persists. “You’ve still got like, half a year left.”

Johnny picks up on his hesitation easily and smiles. Just smiles, like he always does when Ten is being exceptionally childish. “I can’t just marry you, can I?” He teases, and, truth be told, Ten had it coming.

So he plays along. “Why not? Your mom loves me,” Ten raises his eyebrows in feigned innocence and feels the giddy rise in his chest. “You love me, too.”

Johnny sighs, admitting to it. “I do.”

The sinking feeling in Ten’s stomach returns and, when he speaks again, it’s a light sound, almost inaudible through the violent thrashing of his heart in its cage. “So, what’s the matter?”

He doesn’t get an answer.

Instead, Johnny takes the last gummy worm from the pack, wraps it around Ten’s finger, the acidic crystals digging into the thin skin, and ties it with a bow from the inside of his palm. He smiles, pleased with his work, and just holds Ten’s hand for a while, before finally looking back at him to ask, “Will you marry me?”

It totally looks like a ring from the outside. A giant red jelly wedding band.

Ten wants to laugh, so he does just that. He would never have thought that it would happen like this; he never thought about marriage at all, for that matter, but it seems like a natural thing to do, so he leaves the obvious answer simple.

“I will.”

Johnny’s mouth is sour from all the gummy worms when he kisses Ten again, and Ten can’t think of anything else besides the way Johnny grips his chin - not rough, but firm all the same, the way his hot breath lingers on Ten’s skin, the way he opens his mouth against Johnny’s, drags his lower lip between his own and sucks it in. Johnny pushes forward, letting his patience slip out of control, but brings his hands around Ten for support when he arches his back under the pressure, and Ten relaxes into the hold, content with feeling overpowered. Trusting Johnny to not use it against him.

He doesn’t. Instead, Johnny slides his hands over Ten’s waist and under the hem of his hoodie, rubbing soothing circles into the warm skin - gentle, but not unsure. He moves them down to Ten’s ass, gripping it, and presses him down flush against his body, ripping a thin whine from Ten’s mouth that gets lost into the kiss.

Ten likes the power he holds over Johnny, likes being the one to reduce him to begging, and yet he likes this dynamic so much more - too much, in fact, to let it go. He likes it when Johnny breaks the kiss just to look at him as if there’s nothing more beautiful and important in the world, and when he comes back down again for yet another kiss - deep, greedy - Ten likes that, too.

And Johnny knows it. He is all over Ten, everywhere, and he takes his sweet time getting used to Ten’s body anew, letting Ten attune to his touch - brushing his hands against Ten’s taut stomach, then back to his hips and down, to his thighs, and Ten can’t help the impatient sound that he makes. It’s not a moan yet, but he can’t keep up with the kiss anymore, burying his burning face into the crook of Johnny’s neck.

Ten brings his legs around Johnny’s waist and presses up against him, bracing against his chest, and Johnny’s breath burns Ten’s skin with a sharper, louder exhale as he grips at Ten’s thighs, allowing himself a couple of shallow thrusts before he puts Ten back down.

“Hey,” he tugs at the strings of Ten’s shorts, “help me a little.”

Without a word, Ten leans back on his elbows, lifting his hips up, and Johnny drags the shorts together with boxers down to his knees and then all the way off. The countertop is cold against Ten’s exposed skin when he sits back again, and Ten shivers a little, the goosebumps rushing down his legs until Johnny brushes a confident palm up his thigh, rubbing them away.

He looks Ten over, naked and open for him like that now, and when he grips the soft flesh of Ten’s thigh tightly, leaving the fading red marks before releasing, his breath hitches, a sharper audible inhale.

Johnny tugs Ten closer to his chest, but Ten laughs and presses back against his hands, exposing his neck for Johnny to press a soft kiss against the sensitive skin where he’s left a bruising mark before. His hands, however, aren’t as modest - he gropes Ten’s ass, fingers digging into the strong muscle just right, and doesn’t shy away from his now exposed cock, giving it a few probing strokes before settling on a deliberately slow pace to get Ten fully hard.

Ten knows Johnny likes touching him, and he also knows Johnny likes him to be responsive, that’s why he doesn’t hold the moan in and just watches it spike Johnny’s excitement further, practiced and precise movements diverting from the set course. Johnny’s hard, too, - Ten feels him press against his bare thigh and bucks his hips up into his fist, intentionally creating the friction for Johnny, too.

“Tennie,” Johnny sighs, his hot breath over his lips shooting new waves of want through Ten’s body - he loves it when Johnny calls him by his name. “Ten. Ten…”

Johnny captures his lips again and Ten opens his mouth willingly, but it’s hard to keep the kiss up when Johnny thumbs over his slit, spreading the leaking pre-come along Ten’s cock fast and firm. It’s even harder when Johnny brings their foreheads together, their labored breathing interrupted only by a low whisper of, “I wanna suck you off so badly.”

His body reacts faster than he can process the offer. “Yeah,” Ten says, dazed, pushing Johnny away. “Yeah, please, do that.”

Johnny huffs a laugh and sinks down to his knees readily. Ten steps on his shoulder to scoot closer to the edge of the counter and leaves his thigh pressing against the side of Johnny’s neck. Johnny slaps it away, and Ten grunts, shifting, and then holds his legs obediently, open wide and perfectly still, resting them over Johnny's shoulders.

For all his eagerness, Ten still isn’t ready when it happens. There’s a hand over his cock, the long calloused fingers working over him with lazy deliberation, and then there’s Johnny’s mouth on the head, the light touch drawing a whimper out of Ten.

Ten squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lip with how good it feels - Johnny’s wet, warm mouth, his smooth cheek, - and Ten doesn’t want to look, afraid that he’ll come just from seeing it stretch over his cock. Johnny moans around it, sending a satisfying shiver down Ten’s spine, and he can’t help but run his fingers through Johnny’s hair, tugging at it - _come on, ah,_ \- and Johnny obeys, finally taking it all in with ease but still keeping his hand on the base for added pressure, pumping him slowly.

When Ten finally musters the courage to look up, Johnny’s face is surprisingly pleased: he slacks his jaw, letting Ten hit the back of his throat, and laps his tongue along the length lazily, pushing at the swollen vein. Ten bucks his hips up involuntarily and Johnny releases him, taking a gasping breath. His saliva mixes with Ten’s pre-come, gathering at the corners of his perfect mouth, and then trickles down in a thin string - right onto Ten’s thigh. Then, his lips are back again, bringing more heat with every move - going slower, then faster, then slower again.

There’s a certain warmth and growing emptiness in the pit of his stomach, coiling and winding - threatening to inevitably bring him over the edge any second now. “Johnny,” Ten calls, his voice hoarse and a little choked up, and he can’t manage enough self-restraint to hold back the involuntary buck of his hips when Johnny looks back up at him and their eyes meet.

Johnny pulls off and wraps his fist fully around Ten’s cock, giving it a couple deliberately slow strokes. The friction is too slick and loose from all the spit, and Johnny doesn’t tighten his grip and pick up the pace until Ten asks him to, crying out in frustration.

Everything Johnny does after is intentional and calculated - the hand gripping at Ten’s ass almost painfully, the bites he leaves on the inside of Ten’s thighs, the light graze of his nails over the taut skin, - and Ten throws his head back, unable to hold Johnny’s gaze any longer.

Ten finds his hand blindly, scratching at it until Johnny relaxes his grip on his thigh, and holds it until the wave of orgasm finally hits him, leaving him breathless. Johnny helps him ride it off, stroking him lightly, and then his lips are on Ten’s again, catching his last silent moans before his breathing evens out.

“You okay?” Johnny asks. He doesn’t pull away, but Ten can tell it’s hard for him to keep the position for much longer, so he pushes himself up from where he was almost laid out on the counter and gives Johnny one last kiss before pushing him away.

“More than okay,” Ten smiles at him, and gets down from where he sat, his weak legs straining to keep him upright. He is acutely aware of how he looks with Johnny's oversized hoodie stained with cum and barely covering his softening cock, and also of Johnny's hungry gaze lingering on his bare marked-up legs, and it’s still exciting despite the high from his orgasm still echoing through his aching limbs - he still wants more.

Johnny hovers over him - big, hot, familiar, his hands over Ten’s shoulders a heavy and solid weight, and Ten regrets not taking his clothes off earlier, because he wants the skin to touch skin, he wants to feel - and Johnny, as if having read his thoughts, finally strips him of the dirty hoodie, discarding it onto the floor without much thought.

He nudges Ten towards the bed, and Ten shivers from the sudden cold of the sheets against his heated skin when he lies down. He spreads his legs almost instinctively, making room for Johnny in between them, but Johnny just stays there, near the bed, looking over Ten, stroking his knee lightly.

“What do you want?” Johnny asks him, and Ten breaks down under his open unashamed gaze.

There’s no reason in lying, so he tells Johnny the truth. “You.”

“How?” Johnny’s face doesn’t betray it, but his fingers squeeze Ten’s knee harder, getting a pleased sigh out of him.

“Fucking me.”

Johnny huffs a satisfied laugh but doesn’t get down immediately like Ten would’ve liked him to. Instead, he returns to the counter and gets a tube of lube and some condoms out of the bag, tossing them onto the bed. Ten would’ve been fine without them, but he’s glad Johnny’s came prepared, his cock twitching to life again at the implied promise of what’s to come.

Ten gets some towels from the nightstand and tugs the covers away from the bed, finally settling down comfortably with his head on the pillow that’s probably just a bit too soft for his taste. Johnny sits down at the foot of the bed and hooks a hand around his ankle, dragging him closer, and Ten laughs - of course, he should’ve known better, - letting his legs rest over Johnny’s, just enjoying his warm hands on him.

He looks down and can't see the reason Johnny's so fascinated with them: his knees are bony, sharp angles sticking out everywhere when he bends his legs like that, and the muscle of his thigh hovers above it - harsh, unpretty. But Johnny bends down and places light kisses to his scars, discolored and raised above his tan skin, and Ten, still oversensitive, shivers, the wave of pleasure rushing through his whole body.

“Johnny, stop,” he begs, and when Johnny looks up at him, question in his eyes, Ten can’t muster enough resolve to bring an end to this torture. Johnny’s hands slide up and down his thighs absentmindedly, leaving prickling warmth in their wake, making Ten want to press in closer.

He reaches for Johnny again, hands gripping at his arms, bated breath, and reels him in. Johnny kisses Ten, humoring him for a moment, but Ten wants more: he tugs at Johnny’s shirt impatiently, and he gives in easily, allowing him to drag it off.

Ten looks over Johnny’s toned body, his protruding collarbones, dark nipples, the line of dark hair going from his navel down under the hem of his pants, and drags him back down for another kiss. This one is deeper, rougher, just like Ten likes it. Johnny’s hands are so big and so warm, like all of him is, and the world shrinks to the size of this room, a dark haze settling in the corners, Ten’s acute focus on Johnny overwhelmingly all around him.

Johnny presses his whole body into him, and Ten whines at the feeling of the hard denim of his jeans rubbing against naked skin - almost painful yet so, so good. “Johnny, oh my God,” he pants, clawing at the fabric desperately, “take them off!”

There’s an impatient edge to the way Johnny moves away from him, rolling over to the side and onto his back to take the pants off. Ten doesn’t waste any time idling around and wraps his palm around Johnny’s cock as soon as it’s free, its flushed weight heavy in Ten’s grip. Johnny shudders at the first contact and thrusts forward involuntarily, huffing a relieved sigh into the pillow. He’s painfully hard and probably has been for a while, and suddenly Ten feels proud that it’s he who gets Johnny this worked up, and that it’s he who gets to see him come undone.

Ten hooks a leg over Johnny’s hip, and Johnny quickly takes the hint: he reaches around him for purchase and then he’s on Ten again, skin on skin, aligned just right, and there’s no space left for holding back anymore.

They are too close, and Johnny’s too warm, and Ten is too distracted to form coherent thoughts anymore, losing himself in the feeling. He feels Johnny’s self-satisfied grin over his lips and lets him have it, licking into his mouth until Johnny can’t take it anymore and breaks the kiss, his erratic excited breath just another one of the dozens of things about Johnny that turned Ten on.

He arches his back against the pressure of Johnny’s hands and rolls his hips up against his in a shallow rhythm. Ten’s cock is aching distantly, throbbing with the heat of arousal that Johnny has worked him into again, and he swallows hard in an unsuccessful attempt at clearing his thoughts. His thighs are shaking where they are spread open over Johnny’s waist, and Ten tightens his grip on Johnny’s shoulders, soft, hitched moans escaping his slack mouth, broken syllables that might make up Johnny’s name falling from his lips.

Johnny still hears it. He laughs and lets go of him despite Ten’s displeased whine; he pushes up, hands on the sides of Ten’s head, and just looks at him for a moment, meeting Ten’s glazed over gaze. He looks calm, _happy,_ \- and Ten’s ears are ringing with the thud of his heartbeat coming too fast in his chest at the sight.

“Johnny,” he manages, and Johnny dips down to place a soft kiss over Ten’s parted lips before coming up again. “Johnny, I’m…”

“You ready?” Johnny supplies, smiling.

Ten huffs a relieved sigh. “Yeah,” he smiles back up at Johnny. “Yeah, I am.”

There’s not much talking after that. Johnny reaches over Ten’s head for the lube all the way near the pillows; he warms it up in his hands before he comes down to capture Ten’s lips in another kiss again, distracting him from the feeling of his fingers stretching him open - it’s much different from when Ten does it himself, but it’s a good kind of different with a lingering promise of something more.

It’s Johnny, after all.

Ten finds a condom and rips the foil blindly, glad to be at the stage where both of them have already gotten past the juvenile aversion to condoms with even the prospect of helping Johnny put one on making Ten light-headed. He rolls it down and gives Johnny a few probing strokes, drawing a long shuddering breath out of him.

They haven’t been together since the celebration of their debut anniversary, yet every move they make is smooth, fluid with well-learned over the years familiarity. Johnny knows how slow to move, knows how gentle to be, knows how to ease his way deeper, and Ten lifts his hips to meet his next thrust, the mutual momentum making the impact jarring.

Their every move rings through the room with each rhythmical slap of skin against skin. Ten claws at the already crumpled sheets, biting his already bleeding lip, and Johnny presses against his mouth, licking it away, and moans low, almost growls, digging his fingers into the strained muscle of Ten’s ass.

Ten doesn’t mind Johnny being rough with him, and rather needs this extra push of teeth clashing, hands trembling with exertion, nails leaving long-lasting marks in their wake. He isn’t particularly sensitive but it’s the intent of Johnny’s movements that gets him so excited - Johnny knows him well enough to press harder, to grab tighter, to bite down where he should’ve kissed, and Ten feels it resonate through his body in a violent shiver.

When Johnny asks him if he wants to switch, Ten mouths a quiet _yeah_ into the side of his neck without really understanding the implication, and the next thing he knows - he’s already on top, sliding his knees further apart where they dig into the bed so his weight rests firmly in Johnny’s lap. He blinks hard, trying to steady his vision back from the haze of the heat rushing over him at the feeling of Johnny’s cock pressed flush against his ass, and reaches behind to guide it back inside of him.

Johnny yields with a sigh and takes him deep. His eyes slip shut, vulnerable, but Johnny’s still smiling when Ten kisses him, and it feels like electric current passing through him - his chest tightens and he sighs into Johnny’s mouth, making him move to kiss the corner of his lips and then down, to his jawline. Johnny’s head rolls back, his mouth open in a heady gasp, and exposes his long neck; Ten’d love to let his teeth sink into the side of his throat, but ultimately doesn’t - instead, he licks at it, tasting the bitter saltiness of Johnny’s sweat.

And while Ten has always admired the deliberate, almost teasing slowness that Johnny brought when their positions were reversed, he can’t find that kind of patience for himself now that he has Johnny laid out for him like this. He just wants everything at once, wants Johnny coming undone at his hands and Johnny’s voice breaking into pleasure over him.

Johnny bucks up to meet the downward roll of his hips, impatient from the lack of friction, so Ten pushes him down and presses hard against his chest: Johnny’s heart beats under the palms of his hands, and he feels his own - in his throat.

Ten digs his fingernails into Johnny’s chest, hard muscle lying taut beneath the smooth surface of his skin, and rides Johnny - hard, fast, reseating his cock again and again in between of the choked-up cries and moans. Johnny groans, reaching out to help, but mostly just taking the time to swat at Ten’s ass and to grab it, pushing deeper into him, then resting his hands on the spread of Ten’s thighs when it becomes too much.

He knows it’s coming by the way Johnny loses his perfectly even rhythm and ruts forward, erratic unrestrained thrusts almost that much better than the calculated and precise stroke against the prostate Johnny’s so good at in the raw, twisted way. Ten leans forward and pushes his hips down a few more times, letting Johnny ride out the high of his orgasm for as long as possible.

Johnny squeezes his thighs with all the force of the lost control, and it sends a ripple of pleasant pain through Ten's whole body, edging him closer to the climax, too.

Ten feels his legs give out without Johnny’s support, so he leaves a soft kiss on Johnny’s parted lips, catching his steadying breath, and slips down onto the sheets. He helps Johnny take the condom off, tying it and leaving it out to throw away later.

When he looks back up, Johnny’s smiling at him, faint but sure, and his eyes are soft and warm with the afterglow. He cups Ten’s cheeks, bringing him closer for yet another kiss, and Ten keens at the gentle affection. He closes his eyes and lets himself be kissed and touched, and he lets Johnny bring his leg over his hip again and finally do something about his own neglected cock.

Johnny rests his elbow over Ten’s hipbone, his fingers working over him, pressing firmly against the base before stroking up in a nice and fast pull of heat. Ten feels the tension rise up again, rushing all the way up his arched spine, as if all of his body was tuning in with each movement of Johnny’s wrist up and down.

He gasped, reaching up to hold Johnny’s shoulder for leverage, wanting to get closer but needing to find his release first.

“C’mon, Tennie,” Johnny whispers, and then kisses his own name from Ten’s lips as he comes.

They lie in silence for a long while, until the adrenaline winds down and settles in their veins, until their calm pulses match, until they breathe as one being, air synchronized between them. They click together into a simple two-piece puzzle picture, and if it weren’t for a thin seam nobody would know they were ever separated.

Johnny slides one hand from Ten’s shoulder to skim the length of his thighs with an open palm. It’s an innocent, non-binding gesture - or, at least it feels like it. Ten wants to believe that, because he’s just so damn tired.

He looks at Johnny through half-lidded eyes. "Should I ask what you are doing, or am I better off not knowing?" It’s a lazy question, low and easy, expecting nothing but a glib answer.

Johnny props his head up on his elbow and regards Ten where he lies, naked and sated and damp on the piled pillows. "Just looking."

"And touching."

Johnny smirks. "Yeah. That, too."

Ten sighs, and his eyes come open a little, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to show he is pleased. He’s comfortable and calm and happy, which is a stark contrast to his everyday reality, so he wants to stay like this for as long as he can.

Johnny, however, has other plans: he just heaves Ten up from the bed with more force than is probably necessary and instead of leading the way to the bathroom like Ten would’ve preferred, Johnny scoops him up, arms locked just under his ass, and lifts him, hiding a self-satisfied, content grin in the nook of Ten’s neck.

Ten, disgruntled, gingerly braces himself on Johnny’s shoulders and looks down at his upturned face with a disapproving frown. He has cum still smeared across his stomach, he gets to be grumpy.

“Put me down,” he demands, but before he can finish speaking, Johnny’s lips are on his, soft and smiling.

They could’ve fit into the shower together, but Ten quickly washes up first while Johnny washes the dirty hoodie in the tiny sink, and comes back to bed, finally stretching under the light sheets.

Johnny comes back when he is already fast asleep. “Tired?” He asks, lying down behind Ten, and circles an arm around him, pressing closer. His hands are still cold from the icy shower he took, and Ten shivers, goosebumps rushing to the surface, pulling him out of the dream he wouldn’t be able to remember anyway.

“Tomorrow is a new day,” Johnny whispers in Korean for some reason, the vowels drawn out and languid. “Now, sleep.”

Ten nods, ducking his head to leave his last kiss on Johnny’s hand, and allows the steady murmur of the rain lull him back into sleep.

 

Waking up is hard, the jet lag and the long day they’ve had before reluctant to let him go. Johnny’s still in the bed with him when Ten first comes to his senses, and he’s snoring lightly; then he’s not there anymore, and the bright June sunlight filters through the blinds right onto Ten’s face, making him turn away and hide underneath the sheets.

Johnny comes back after the clock strikes noon. “I brought you coffee,” he says, sitting on the side of the bed, and brushes the hair off of Ten’s face. He dares to look awfully bright and awake, and Ten wouldn’t be surprised if he had already explored all of the motel and the neighborhood, his precious camera in tow. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Morning,” Ten echoes, stifling a yawn, and takes the foam cup from Johnny’s hands, clinging to his fingers instead, pressing his cheek into his warm palm. The coffee is much better than what they’ve had yesterday, and Ten sighs, content. Good morning, indeed.

Johnny takes his camera and takes a photo of Ten like he was in that moment - still weak from sleep, eyes closed, Johnny’s fingers on his face, in his hair. He always does that - catches Ten at his most open, his most vulnerable, and captures him as he sees him. Ten likes himself, but especially likes himself in Johnny’s pictures, and he can’t wait to see the photos.

The quiet doesn’t hold up for too long. Johnny’s phone rings, and the moment is broken when he takes it to his ear, a cheerful greeting on his lips. Ten scoots closer, pressing his ear to the backside of his phone, and Johnny extends his hand for him to listen. He doesn’t hear much, but it’s enough to recognize Donghyuck’s bright voice, so Ten waves for Johnny to catch his attention.

“Ten says hi,” Johnny deciphers and relays his message to Hyuck. “Yes, we are still alive. Yes, we are careful,” Johnny looks at Ten who only shakes his head. “Tell manager-hyung we’ll be back for dinner…”

After that, Ten loses his interest in the conversation. Instead, he takes the camera out of hands of the distracted Johnny, and flips through the photos: him, not even five minutes ago; him sleeping, his long hair giving away the covered layer of red dye underneath the black from their most recent comeback under the direct sunlight; him, flustered, in the empty diner; him, the lake behind him endless, like a sea.

“I love these,” Ten tells Johnny, and Johnny just smiles at him, surprised and happy.

Something inside of Ten snaps, exploding with a loud bang. He wants to kiss this smile, so he does just that. Johnny tastes like peppermint toothpaste and the unique, addictive sweetness that Ten finds permanently imprinted onto his brain, diluting the bitterness of the morning coffee.

There is something special about kissing someone you have kissed before: it’s smarter, more powerful, quick to become intimate, and kissing like that can be as good - or better - than anything else, even sex. Ten could stay like this for a long while, Johnny’s warm body pressed against his side, kissing him everywhere he can reach: his cheeks, nose, forehead, corner of his lips, his neck and ears.

He would’ve stayed like this if he could - away from the reality that insisted on separating them again and again, but he can’t: Johnny pulls away with one last kiss and stands up, tugging the sheet off from Ten.

“We have to get going,” he says, and Ten whines at the loss of contact, but also at the perspective of driving back to the city where their management will take Johnny away for another schedule in the neverending row of schedules, and Ten will only have the photos to see his face and phone calls to hear his voice.

A new day, but still their reality, and they had to protect it, so Ten takes Johnny’s outstretched hand and gets up, too, ready to face the day.

 

Ten is calm enough to trust Johnny and not put the helmet on their way back. The wind blows through his long hair, and he finally understands the freeing feeling Johnny has been talking about.

He looks back, but the road is empty for as far as he can see, and it shouldn’t surprise him but does anyway. “Nobody’s chasing us,” Ten notes, and lets his burning cheek fall against the rough leather of Johnny’s jacket.

Johnny looks forward, but Ten knows he’s heard him by the way he straightens his back, bringing it closer to Ten’s chest. “Of course not,”  he shouts against the strong current, “why would anyone do that?”

Why would anyone, indeed? 

**Author's Note:**

> A year of waiting, a month of hardcore projections on my part, a cameo of my girlfriend and her dog later, it's finally here!
> 
> Thank you, Katie, for being the inspiration, and for always being patient with me.  
> Thank you, Cla, for being kind enough to read this through for me on such a short notice, and Alex, for providing emergency male anatomy advice. Thank you to everyone else who had to deal with my constant whining this past couple of weeks.  
> And thank you, for reading till the end.
> 
> Any comment is greatly appreciated! Also, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/mugentekiga).


End file.
